


escape the burning wait

by g0ryllama



Series: Give Me All Your Kisses (The Birds and The Bees) [1]
Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: (theyre both enthusiastic but its awkward and so just in case that tag is there), Ambiguous Genitals, Definitely Not Safe Sex, Discussion of Pregnancy, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sex Pollen, WTF, anyway, as in no lube and no condoms, how did i get to the point of writing moomin porn, i guess, they're adults for sure in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 04:05:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18909193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/g0ryllama/pseuds/g0ryllama
Summary: There aren't many rules that Snufkin lives by, besides this: firstly, always ignore the law, secondly, always travel south for Winter no matter what, and thirdly, never ever ever let Moomin know what he does when he travels south for Winter.He can't control when the reason he travels south will hit though.





	escape the burning wait

**Author's Note:**

> hey, read the tags twice and make sure youre comfortable with reading this
> 
> it is entirely up to you if you read it or not, if at any point you need to hit the back button dont hesitate to do so because i will not listen to any whining about how much you hated this, or how wrong i am for writing it. im aware its weird and some people will find it gross, i just dont care
> 
> that being said, have fun reading this! its just a silly fic, nothing more

The view from the top of the Lonely Mountains is breathtaking, stretching across the horizon, every tree in Moominvalley visible. For now though, the only view Snufkin has is tree branches on sloping mountain paths.

Normally, he wouldn't venture out on an expedition with Moomin so close to Winter (it being mid-autumn at the time), but the weather is fair and his best friend was desperate to spend some alone time with him before he leaves on his Winter travels. And so, in a way he is wont to do in regards to Moomintroll, he relented and agreed to take a hike to the top of the Lonely Mountains with him.

Snufkin makes it sound miserable; in all honesty, it's lovely to have some time, just the two of them, enjoying nature and each others quiet company.

The trees are varying shades of reds, oranges and golds, the wind rushing through the leaves creating a gentle shushing noise that fills the silence as the two friends climb to their destination.

In Snufkin's pack, along with his usual belongings, is a multitude of food, drinks and blankets Moominmamma had forced them to take with a stern but loving stubbornness. It does make it heavier though, and so Snufkin trails a few paces behind Moomin, managing just fine (although maybe a little less enthusiastic than the last time they made this journey).

The path thins out, and the two begin to climb through the trees, the slope steep but nothing they can't handle.

Around them, more strange plants grow, one or two flowering bushes with face-like buds, trees that seem to whisper soft words to them, rocks that move if you look too closely. Part of the mountain's beauty was it's oddness, so similar to the valley and yet so alien in comparison.

Moomin points at a few of the strangest plants, until Snufkin reminds him that they aren't aware of what they are and so it'd be best to stay away from them and admire them from afar.

They continue on for a good few minutes, before a strange smell fills Snufkin's nostrils. Moomin doesn't seem to notice anything, still wandering here and there as they traverse the trodden path. But there's definitely something.

It smells of a herb that Snufkin had smoked once, a long time ago, his memories from that particular strand fuzzy; the best kind. Although slightly sweeter, with a slight strawberry undertone, like the strawberry juice Moominmamma would make for them on a hot Summer's day.

He'd love some more of that herb, if he can find it. Letting Moomin know where he's going, he sets off in the direction of the smell, encouraged as it gets stronger before a large bush comes into view, completely not what the herb looked like last time Snufkin found some.

The bush is a dark green, with thorny vines wrapping around it like chains, sprouting small, fuschia flowers haphazardly. The smell is strongest here, sickly sweet and nothing like what it was before, bitter almost and much too overpowering.

Snufkin turns to leave, disappointed, when a vine wraps around his ankle, the thorns pricking into his skin like tiny teeth.

Shocked, and definitely panicked, Snufkin kicks hard, trying to dislodge the vine. He's successful, but the bush shakes with the force, a cloud of dust expelling from the flowers and into the air surrounding him.

The moment he breathes some in he knows he's in trouble. A deep heat spreads through his body outwards from his lungs, setting every nerve on fire, his senses heightened so much he can hear the quiet creaking of the mountain beneath his feet.

His breathing becomes laboured almost instantly, and he needs to get away from this bush before he breathes too much of the dust in, because Snufkin's already feeling light-headed and dizzy and he can't risk pulling Moomin into… This.

Stumbling back onto the path, face flushed and skin prickling, Snufkin begins to panic in full force. Moomin can’t know, he can’t, what will he think of him if he finds out?

“Hey Snufkin, did you find what you wanted?” Moomin asks, voice bright and welcoming and warm and everything Snufkin wants to drown in. That is, until Moomin turns around and notices his bright pink face and panting breaths, a deep worried frown making its way between his eyebrows. “Oh no, are you okay?”

Snufkin nods, not trusting his voice yet as he tries to will the heat back down into submission before he does something he’ll regret. His knees go weak when Moomin’s eyes trail down his body (obviously checking for any other signs of whatever he thinks is going on), and Snufkin curses his nature.

Because he’s most certainly not due yet. Winter is still a good few weeks away, and he’s never had to worry about any unexpected mishaps because he can always tell when his heat is about to hit. That damn plant.

He’d rather die than deal with this right now.

Moomin is still looking at him expectantly, clearly waiting for his vocal confirmation that he’s okay, and so he takes a deep breath and smiles awkwardly. “I’m fine, Moomin.” But it doesn’t sound right, the vowels too long and his voice too breathy, and he definitely just moaned his name, and judging by the wide eyed look on Moomin’s face, he definitely noticed.

“No, I don't think you are,” Moomin shakes his head as he comes closer, Snufkin tracking every movement with baited breath and skittering eyes. Moomin presses the pads of his paw against Snufkin's forehead and frowns when the touch sends a shiver through the mumrik's overheated body. “I think you might have a fever. We should probably set up camp anyway, some rest will help!”

How sweet of him. Sometimes Snufkin forgets just how innocent Moomin is, even if they are both adults now in their own rights. This is why he's never told him about his heats before, but as the nausea begins to rise, he wonders if it was worth keeping it from him.

Leading them to a small, secluded cave not far from the summit, Moomin ducks in and checks it out before beckoning Snufkin in, taking his backpack from him as he slides down against the cave wall.

As Moomin begins hanging their lanterns around the cave, setting out blankets and cooking utensils, Snufkin tries to get control over his body, trying to pull himself out of the heat forcefully by pinching the skin of his thigh, but all it does is turn him on more and he internally facepalms.

“Can you manage setting up your tent? It will be better for you to sleep in there so the cold night air doesn't get to you.” Moomin explains, tone gentle and kind and not assuming, leaving the answer open to Snufkin without an ounce of judgement.

Pushing himself up on shaky limbs, Snufkin nods. Setting up the tent might be a good distraction, and even if it doesn't help to calm him down, the least it'll do is give him a chance to collect his thoughts.

Moomin begins creating a fire behind him, humming a soft tune as Snufkin unravels the fabric, fingers numb and fumbling.

As he does so, his thoughts wander back to his regrets (the many of them), which helps to tamp down on the arousal coursing through his veins. Like, how if he'd told Moomin before about his heats, then he wouldn't be feeling so trapped in his affliction right now. Or maybe Moomin would know how to help without any of the awkward explaining Snufkin will have to do if this goes on much longer (is he seriously entertaining the thought of  _ asking _ Moomin to… Ease his heat?).

The tent pole in his hands clatters to the floor loudly as he loses his grip, flustered and angry, tilting his head down to hide his blush when Moomin picks it up for him.

“I'll help,” the troll says, hand on Snufkin's shoulder companionably, not knowing just how much his touch is driving him crazy. “If it was too much, you could've said.”

Nodding, Snufkin sets about fixing the tent on the opposite side to Moomin to create some distance, despite the sense of dread flooding him as a natural response to prevent him from running from a potential mate. There's so much wrong with his nature.

Once the tent is up and the fire is burning gently, the sky outside has darkened significantly. It's a good thing they came in when they did, he thinks, a breeze rushing through the cave and knocking the lanterns against the walls gently.

A pot of stew bubbles over the fire as Snufkin wraps a blanket around his shoulders tightly, hugging his knees to his chest and avoiding eye contact with Moomin.

“Hopefully you'll sweat it out, the fever,” he wonders out loud, sitting opposite Snufkin on the other side of the fire, and he feels both a sense of relief at the distance and upset that he can't touch him. “That's what Mamma says helps.”

Snufkin nods again, teeth chattering as the hair on his skin rises. Usually by this point in his heat, he's found someone to relieve him of it, quite often far enough south that no one in Moominvalley would know of the place. His body aches to be claimed, but the shame hasn't fled yet, which he takes as a good sign. At least he hasn't completely lost control yet.

Moomin spoons out a bowl of stew for him, passing it over before filling a bowl for himself, making idle chatter as they eat, steadily growing more and more curious (Snufkin can see questions forming in his head).

The food lies heavy in Snufkin's stomach and he stops eating after the third spoonful, silently hoping Moomin will make more in the morning when he's definitely worn out.

A plan formed in his head not long after Moomin started talking about the village on the other side of the mountain. If he could sneak out once Moomin was asleep, then he could deal with his heat safely and return before he awoke, none the wiser.

Of course, there are many ways it could go wrong, but right now it's the only appropriate course of action he can take without jeopardising his entire friendship with Moomin.

Snufkin wriggles a little where he's sat, his skin prickling again with the desire to touch, breathing soft but fastened and much too desperate to sound like he's just dealing with a fever. 

The spoon clatters in Moomin's empty bowl as he places it down next to him, silence filling their cave for a few moments, the air tense with questions unspoken. “This isn't a fever, is it?”

Snufkin's been caught out. Maybe it was the wriggling, maybe it was the breathing, or maybe it was just that Moomin knows Snufkin too well. 

He opens his mouth to deny it, but no sounds come out apart from the desperate panting of his breaths, his face flushing darker from embarrassment as Moomin watches him worriedly. Snufkin so desperately wants to know what he's thinking, what Moomin has decided is happening so he can tailor his answer to it, but his eyes hold only concern and slight confusion.

Where does he even start? “N-no, it's not,” he speaks slowly, tasting the words on his tongue and deciding he doesn't like them. “Can you promise me something?”

Moomin's frown is back, but he nods, waving a hand for Snufkin to continue.

“Don't let this change anything,” Snufkin doesn't know what he'd do if Moomin was disgusted by this, but he knows he doesn't want to find out. He'd keep it hidden for the rest of his life if he could, but the longer this goes on the harder it gets to keep his mind. “Don't think of me differently.”

“Of course not, Snufkin, nothing would change that.”

Oh and how much he wants to believe that, wants to curl up and let the warmth of their friendship ease his troubles, but that's not what he needs.

“... My mother, the Mymble, goes through certain… Periods during the year where… She becomes extra fertile...?” His voice is shaky, his mind reeling, but he has to continue. “Heats, if you will, and she becomes blinded by… L-lust… And has to find someone to…”

His voice trails off slowly, head spinning. He can't seriously be explaining everything  _ now _ , of all times. But Moomin nods encouragingly, eyes unreadable, and Snufkin lets the floodgates open. “She has to find someone to mate with as soon as possible, before the heat takes control and she loses her mind… The heat, the desperation, it's enough to drive you crazy, and if you're not quick enough, it takes over and suddenly you're willing to mate with anything that moves, frothing at the mouth and desperate…”

Snufkin knows he's said too much when silence fills the cave again, and he needs to keep talking just to avoid the confrontation he's sure he's about to be faced with. “Not all mymbles go through it, and I'm pretty sure my father doesn't have anything similar, or if he does I never found out…”

It's quiet again, the atmosphere thick enough to cut with a knife. Moomin's feet shuffle a little in the dust on the floor before he speaks up, voice quiet and level. “It sounds like you speak from experience…” Moomin says, gentle and leading, expression still not revealing anything, and Snufkin takes a leap of faith.

“Mhmm, I go into heat during the Winter months.”

"Oh… Fuck…" Moomin breathes out, and Snufkin feels simultaneously scandalised and flustered by his casual use of the swear word, vision going blurry around the edges.

The wind howls through the cavern eerily, highlighting the tension again as Snufkin begins to get restless, feeling his hole become slick as the heat finally takes over every function of his body, a soft whine escaping his lips.

Moomin's eyes glint in the light of the fire, pupils blown wide, and it strikes Snufkin that maybe his heat might affect Moomin too, especially now it's reached this far. But the troll doesn't appear… To be otherwise affected, arms crossed and posture still awkward. "How many people have you slept with?"

Taken aback, Snufkin snaps out of the arousal for a moment, anger flashing through him with more force than his heat had. "That's none of your business, Moomintroll." He snarls, teeth bared.

His paws fly out in front of him in a placating manner, face apologetic but Moomin is pretty stubborn. "Please, I just want to know."

"... Too many."

"How many is too many?"

Snufkin huffs out a feeble laugh, standing and beginning to pace, ignoring the wetness and desperation crawling up his spine. "Enough that I'm sure it'd shock anyone with at least a shred of decency."

Moomin seems to ponder on that for a while, eyes tracking Snufkin's every movement with an intensity that makes him want to shove him down and work out a way for them to mate. "So… Do you um… Have kids then?"

This time he actually laughs, hard, the question so innocent yet so loaded at the same time. It almost hurts. "No, not a single child. I guess none of my past mates had viable or strong enough seed for me."

He's mostly joking, although it is true; if any of his past mates had mated him properly he's sure he would've had kids by the dozen (damn mymble genes). It's mostly why he usually chooses mates that aren't compatible with him generally speaking, because Snufkin isn’t sure kids are a good idea for him. Not yet at least. He doesn't like to dwell on it.

Moomin's face is the picture perfect definition of confusion, brows furrowed deeply and eyes flitting between Snufkin and the fire like the answer might come to him if he thinks hard enough. "So… Wait, what?”

Ever so eloquent, Snufkin thinks, getting more and more frustrated the more he has to explain. “I’m half mymble, Moomin, and unfortunately that is the side my reproductive organs favour…”

“Oh…” Moomin’s face turns a dark shade of pink beneath his white fur when the realisation hits, although Snufkin can’t figure out why  _ that _ is what made the troll flustered and not the rest of it. Maybe it was just too much information.

Well, now he’s sure that their friendship is ruined. The silence that stretches again is longer and more fragile, like their composure might shatter any second and they’ll both say things they’ll regret when this all passes over, like Snufkin hasn’t already said too much.

“How can I help?”

Snufkin nearly chokes on his next inhale, glaring indignantly at the other, body reacting to the question without a second thought, tingling and uncomfortably hot. “You do not want to help, trust me.”

Moomin glares back heatedly (it does not send a shiver down Snufkin’s spine at all, not at all), eyes dark and pupils wide. “Yes I do,” His arms are crossed over his chest defensively, the blush spreading to the tips of his pointy ears, as he thinks over his next few words. “Of course I want to help you, you’re my best friend.”

The words both excite and upset Snufkin with their honesty, his instincts demanding that he give in and beg Moomin to breed him, body aching for even the slightest touch. But he simply  _ can’t _ just give in, can’t risk losing the friendship they’ve steadily built over the past few years. They’re best friends. Nothing more. That… Would definitely tear them apart.

“Moomin, please, I can’t… Let you help, even if I wanted to! Your friendship means too much to me.” Snufkin admits, refusing to meet Moomin’s eyes as he speaks, ashamed that it’s taken him being thrown into a forced heat for him to even begin admitting how much Moomin means to him.

Seeming to understand, Moomin stands and nods, before he heads into the tent. If Snufkin had his wits about him, he’d be worried that he’d upset him, that Moomin was escaping the situation because Snufkin had done or said something that had hurt him, but all he feels is a dull confusion and an even duller frustration behind the tonne of arousal building again, his body aching to be manhandled and roughly forced into submission.

The entrance to the cave seems to be miles away, his previous plan completely thrown out of the window now; he's too far along to make it safely to the village without either getting taken advantage of or losing himself along the way. Snufkin can  _ smell _ the pheromones he's putting off, saccharine and sickly, and he has no idea how it hasn't driven Moomin into a state of similar abandon.

He barely even registers when Moomin douses the fire, the only light from the lanterns illuminating him from behind as he stands in front of Snufkin, face set into a determined expression, only softened by the worry in his deep blue eyes. "I'm going to help you. I promise it won't change a thing."

Snufkin moans, every synapse on fire, every nerve open and exposed, every inch of his skin itching and burning with heat. The relief that floods him almost knocks him off his feet, knees buckling, and he would've collapsed if it wasn't for Moomin taking his hands quickly, holding him up. Electricity flows from where their hands are joined together, but the words play on his mind.

"If you'd rather it be someone else, we can try to find someone, but…" Moomin stops speaking for a moment, confidence sliding away. "But with the way you are right now, I really don't want to put you in any danger."

They're so close, Snufkin can smell the soap Moomin uses to keep his fur soft and shiny, can see the hesitation in his eyes still, can hear the doubt in his voice. And it's all so  _ painfully _ Moomin that he finds himself unable to control his words.

"No, I want you Moomintroll."

And it's not a lie, nor is it a heat-addled delusion. Simply a confession that Snufkin would've rather said on a clear Spring evening, sat on their bridge, gazing at the stars reflected in the stream. A confession Snufkin could never bring himself to say out loud. It's just a shame it took all of this to make him say it.

Would he still want Moomin if he wasn't desperate for a hard, rough breeding? Absolutely. Is he mortified by that? For sure.

There's barely a reaction from Moomin, besides his eyes widening a little, and he carefully leads Snufkin towards the tent, following him in and zipping up the opening against the cold cave. One of the lanterns sits in the corner of the tent, illuminating the space enough that Snufkin can see where Moomin rolled up the comforter into a pillow, some of the flowers they'd picked earlier this morning decorating the space, almost like a nest. He had been busy whilst Snufkin had zoned out.

It's quiet for a long time, as they both avoid each other's gaze, Snufkin resting against the makeshift pillow and panting softly, Moomin kneeling in the entrance still.

"I… Don't know how to do this." The troll eventually confesses, paws wringing around each other, and once again Snufkin is struck by how innocent Moomin actually is. Does he mean in terms of doing this with a mumrik or in general?

Snufkin doesn't know which is worse, him taking Moomin's virginity or him  _ not _ being the one to take it.

Moomin's eyes slide slowly up from the floor to Snufkin's face, eyes wide and blush returning. What a mess he must look, all pink and sweaty and breathy. He can feel his auburn hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, hat forgotten somewhere in the tent.

"Do Moomins even… You know…?" He asks, brain muddled, because he honestly has no idea how Moomin anatomy works in terms of mating, and he's sure Moomin is just as clueless about mumrik/mymble anatomy.

Tutting softly, Moomin crosses his arms and nods. "Um, yeah, how do you think Mamma and Pappa had me? They certainly didn't wish for me under the new moon, that's for sure."

Snufkin frowns at the imagery; he really doesn't want to think of Moominmamma and Moominpappa having sex, but that's where his mind is and it's not going away. But then… "Wait, have you never… Not even with Snorkmaiden?"

"What?!" Moomin exclaims, shocking Snufkin with the volume and causing him to jump. "No way, no way, I mean I like her, of course I do, but in that way? Do I want that with her? I don't think so…"

The longer Moomin continues to explain why he doesn't want to have sex with Snorkmaiden (honestly why did Snufkin have to ask?), the more restless Snufkin gets. He's sure his trousers are ruined by now, the slick wetness seeping into the fabric too deep for the sweet smell to ever leave. A shame, he'd have to have new ones.

But wait, if Moomin doesn't want to do these things with Snorkmaiden then what makes doing it with Snufkin any different? Surely he'd want that even less then? He's just being a good friend, Snufkin reasons, ignoring the way that makes his heart ache and his stomach clench tightly, like he'd rather it be for any other reason.

He's already sacrificing enough for Snufkin as it is, there's no excuse for him being selfish.

"- and just the other day she was talking about kids, and don't get me wrong I love kids! Would love some of my own one day, but I don't know if I want them with her, or maybe it's just that I'd rather wait you know? Plus then there's marriage too, and moving out of Moominhouse-"

"Moomin, I get that this is hard," Snufkin interrupts, head fuzzy and heavy, hands itching to bury into Moomin's fur. "We'll talk about that in the morning. But please, I can't wait much longer."

His friend's eyes land on his lips as he talks, flustered but nodding in understanding, shuffling closer to him along the tent floor. "Sorry, got carried away," Snufkin smiles hesitantly, gasping when Moomin places his paws on both of Snufkin's shoulders and pushes him down onto his back slowly, head nestled comfortably on the pillow. "Is that okay, Snuff?"

His voice is gentle, and the nickname so soft, Snufkin melts a little, eyes glazing over when the panic of not getting mated leaves because now it's going to happen. Moomin looks so enraptured as Snufkin spreads his legs, giving him room to slot between his thighs, and it makes the mumrik want to cry with… Something. He's feeling too much, heat and desperation and  love … Oh. No, not now, not here.

He's so overwhelmed, his instincts begging him to hide his face, warring with the heat's desperation. "We can… Do it in a different position… If that'd make it easier…" Because maybe it would, so Moomin doesn't have to look at Snufkin's face whilst they…

"No, I want to see you." Moomin mutters, wiping Snufkin's hair away from his eyes with his paw, nudging his snout gently against Snufkin's neck above his scarf.

He doesn't know what to do, how to react, if he should do anything at all, the feeling of his fur rubbing against Snufkin’s skin sending shudders throughout his body, almost painful in their intensity.

What he does know is that his words send a warmth, so different from the heat, from his heart outwards, and he doesn't like how much he loves the feeling, the way it makes his heart leap into his throat, his stomach full of butterflies. Snufkin shoves those feelings to the side for now, reaching his arms up and around Moomin’s neck as he pushes his hips up to get some friction. Got to keep it purely physical.

Moomin’s fingers start unravelling Snufkin’s scarf as the mumrik kicks off his boots, laughing quietly when Snufkin demands he hurry up, sitting back to help him take off the rest of his clothes.

He’s been naked in front of Moomin before, being childhood friends meant that they often shared baths, but now, in the midst of his heat, Snufkin feels a slight embarrassment at being completely exposed, chest heaving and pink, thighs shiny with slick. But when he meets Moomin’s eyes, he’s taken aback by how dark they are as they track his entire body, like he’s devouring him visually, the flush from his cheeks turning his whole body a soft pink under the thick layer of fur.

No sign of reproductive organs though, and he lets out a slightly frustrated groan at his lack of knowledge about, well, everything related to his best friend. A simple fingering won’t be enough to solve his heat, otherwise he could’ve done it himself, but if moomins reproduce sexually then there must be something…

Distracted, Snufkin watches as Moomin reaches down between his own legs and guides his  cock out from within his fur, and Snufkin loses his mind. He’ll definitely have to ask about where it came from when he’s coherent, but for now, all he can think of is how thick it is, how long compared to others he’s had, how  _ interesting _ it is. A light purple colour except for the head (which is slightly darker), slightly flared and tapered at the tip then smooth until a bit before the base, swollen and with a knot. Snufkin goes cross-eyed at the thought of having it inside of him, stretching out his walls, filling him to the brim with Moomin’s seed and keeping it there.

Moomin notices Snufkin’s staring and laughs quietly, possibly self-consciously, which is understandable given that is his first time, so Snufkin does the first thing that comes to mind and presses his lips against Moomin’s snout, like a mixture of a mumrik kiss and moomin kiss. It’s certainly awkward, but he can feel Moomin relaxing, which is enough for Snufkin to be able to relax himself, smiling shyly when Moomin nuzzles his cheek in return.

A finger slides around his entrance, and Snufkin gasps, back arching at the touch. “Wow, you’re so wet…” Moomin hums, causing Snufkin to cover his face with his hands, the need to hide his face increased tenfold by the embarrassment at how desperate he is for it. “No, no it’s a good thing, don’t be embarrassed.”

As if to prove his point, the troll slides a finger inside, the soft fur feeling odd inside of him but it feels so much more satisfying to finally have something inside of him that it cancels out the strangeness. Quiet, breathy huffs leave Snufkin’s mouth as Moomin works him open, adding a second finger when the mumrik asks for it, scissoring them inside and dragging a groan from him as his fingers press against his walls.

Snufkin opens his eyes; he hadn’t even realised he’d closed them, and is met by a curious expression on Moomin’s face searching his own, not doubtful as such, but something similar. “Moomintroll?”

“Shh, just relax and enjoy it,” he shakes his head gently, pulling his fingers out and tapping Snufkin’s thighs wider. “Are you ready?”

He wants to ask if Moomin is, wants to make sure this is what he wants, but his mind is muddled and his body is screaming for his cock and it takes all he has to not flip them over and take control because he doesn’t want to scare Moomin away. Instead he nods fiercely, threading his fingers into the fur around his neck and shifting his hips into a better position, waiting with baited breath.

The flared head nudges at his entrance before sliding in fluidly, the thickness so much more than Moomin’s two fingers, but the stretch is glorious. Snufkin moans loudly, fingers tightening in the trolls fur, and he can already tell this is going to be over way too quickly.

“You’re so tight, Snuff,” Moomin gasps, eyes screwed shut as he stops pushing in at the knot, his arms on either side of Snufkin’s head shaking with the effort of staying still. Is he waiting for him to adjust? “Does it hurt?”

Snufkin laughs breathily, moving one of his hands to stroke Moomin’s cheek. “N-no, feels good.” He smiles brightly at him when he opens his eyes, stomach doing somersaults all over again at the smile he receives.

Already, this time is so different to every other heat he’s gone through, for a start Moomin is thinking of  _ him _ first, taking his time (even though he doesn’t need to), smiling at him, actually prefering to look at him as they mate. In the back of his mind, Snufkin hopes this won’t ruin him for every other experience (but he knows it will).

Moomin slides out almost to the head, the flare dragging along Snukin’s walls and pulling a desperate cry from his throat before he pushes in again, refilling the emptiness. Taking it slowly, Snufkin feels like demanding he go faster, but something about the look in Moomin’s eyes as he watches him come undone beneath him changes his mind. He should just try to enjoy it whilst it lasts, and if Moomin wants to drag it out he isn’t going to complain.

With each deep, slow thrust, Moomin’s knot presses against the rim of Snufkin’s entrance, but never enough for it to slide in, each teasing push driving Snufkin crazy.

The inside of the tent feels stifling, both of them panting as they inevitably speed up, Snufkin locking his ankles behind Moomin’s back to keep him as close as he can, thankful that they’re so high up in the mountain that they’re basically secluded from the rest of the world because Snufkin has never been so loud during sex before. The sensation of being so full, the strange shape of Moomin’s cock rubbing against all the right places inside of him and the long, sharp thrusts sending him right to the edge only a few minutes in.

Moomin groans lowly, the sound like music to Snufkin’s ears, and with the next thrust, he cums harder than he ever has before, mouth open on a silent cry of his best friend’s name, tears sliding slowly from his eyes from how overwhelmed he is. It seems that the rhythmic tightening and flexing of his walls feels good for Moomin, who finally forces his entire knot inside of him before filling him with his seed.

For a while, they stay very still, completely overtaken by their orgasms and unable to really do anything other than breathing really hard in the afterglow, before Moomin collapses next to him, still deep inside of him.

Snufkin feels Moomin wrap his arms around him, but barely registers anything else, suddenly extremely tired now his heat is satisfied, closing his eyes and falling into a deep, happy slumber.

* * *

 

The sound of a bird chirping echoes around Snufkin’s head as he dazedly rubs at his eyes, focus fuzzy and movements sluggish.

That is, until he finds he can’t move, face pressed against something fluffy, legs and arms held down by something heavier than himself. Snufkin feels the panic rise in his throat as he struggles, still unable to see much.

“H-huh? Hey Snufkin, calm down, it’s just me,” a voice says from somewhere above him, thick with sleep and confusion. “Stop kicking.”

Moomintroll. His vision comes back to him and he finds his face pressed against Moomin’s chest, legs tangled together and arms tucked up against his midsection, held in return. The panic subsides a little, but he feels a little stifled, smiling gratefully when Moomin lets go of him so he can sit up.

And he’s very naked. And last night comes flooding back to him. And he instantly flops back down and hides his face in the makeshift pillow.

“I’m so sorry…” He mutters, voice muffled, trying not to think of the sticky clammy feeling between his thighs of their fluids, mixed together and drying. They’re no longer knotted together, and if he had his clothes on it would just be like the times they have sleepovers together, only it isn’t, and he feels an immense sense of shame.

Moomin shuffles away a little to give Snufkin space, and keeps his voice gentle as he speaks. “Don’t apologise, it worked right? I’d feel terrible if I didn’t do anything to help.”

Snufkin turns his head a little to peek at Moomin, blushing when he smiles at him widely. How is he so calm? “Yes I suppose so… But aren’t you upset that your first… Time wasn’t better? Or with someone else?”

He hadn’t meant to ask that, not really wanting to hear the answer, but curiosity always did kill the cat, and Snufkin isn’t one to deny his curious nature.

“No…” Moomintroll stops to think, a similar blush reflected on his own cheeks before he continues. “I’m really happy that you were my first.”

Snufkin doesn’t respond for a while, the words heavy with something unspoken, hanging like a fog in the tent, and he can’t breathe it in enough. “I… Wish you were mine…” It feels like a confession, like he just jumped off of a cliff towards a sea full of ravenous sharks, but he can’t take it back, can’t deny it if Moomin asks what he means because he deserves to know.

“Snufkin…” Soft as a feather, Moomin presses a kiss to his forehead, and Snufkin feels like he could melt. It’s all becoming a little too much for him to deal with, but he rubs his cheek against the other’s when there’s space to, just to show that he reciprocates… Whatever this is.

* * *

The view from the summit of the Lonely Mountain is stunning. Trees stretch far across the horizon, birds fly around their heads, singing, and the sun shines its rays down on the two friends and the valley below, flooding everything in bright hues

They lay their picnic blanket down on the grass, the sun glinting off their newly washed hair and fur from the small stream not too far down the mountain, before they both relax as they sit, sharing a glass of lemonade and some grapes, laughing at jokes they share with each other.

And come afternoon, when the sun begins to dip low and casts shadows longer than they are, they sit and watch the birds flock back to their nests, hand in paw and head on shoulder, hat forgotten to the side and a peaceful yet quiet understanding between the two of them.

Last night changed everything for them, only in the way that really, nothing much has changed at all.

It’s hard for Snufkin to admit how much he adores Moomintroll, but sitting on the grass beside him, sides pressed together in every way they can, bathed in the golden afternoon glow, he feels no shame in his feelings, just a sense of calm.

**Author's Note:**

> whew okay
> 
> full disclosure, i have no idea what their biology is like so i just made everything up
> 
> theyre so cute i couldnt make it really nasty like i wanted to, but hey, this is nice
> 
> i wrote this listening to taro by alt-j and let me tell you that was an experience
> 
> have a good day!


End file.
